An angel looked dismayed as they were walking by,
In the morning light reflected off of pools of blood collecting flys,
Buzzards, vultures, coyotes, and the occasional hyena.
No longer to delay,
Awake another blood-filled day,
Out of the sea; the five heads of the beast were screaming.
No one asked for the heroes,
And thought of them as zeros
While they were fighting the beast that didn’t need exterminating.
Morning came again with the red tide.
So many fallen that should not have died,
From ignorance alone,
The beast called the sea his home.
And so will many more after this reading.
Cheers to the callous fools who have no feeling.
I do not often see red tide retreating.
Posted in Musing
Tagged angel, beast, die, fallen, hero, home, light, morning, poem, poetry, pool, red, reflect, retreat, sea, tide
All these words cause my cold blood to quicken,
Strangely though for who bought them? I’m the one.
Now all around me my shell it thickens,
And I am wishing for the daylight sun.
I am stirred here in my first reaction,
And find comfort in my first defense.
With the glowing wonder of a black sun,
I find my first, the wrong side of a fence.
For how are we to know the beautiful,
If there is nothing lesser by its side?
How can we know joy beyond the painful,
Without accepting them to coincide?
The next time a question finds me, retreat,
Will not be my first defense in conceit.